


Deed Undone

by B_R_M



Category: Naruto, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Attack on Titan alternate ending, BAMF Mikasa, Blood and Violence, Blood is family, Butterfly Effect, Death, F/M, Gore, Kirigakure | Hidden Mist Village, Let's Start a Revolution, M/M, Minor Character Death, Not your mother's reincarnation, Protective Siblings, war isn't pretty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:14:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29338134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_R_M/pseuds/B_R_M
Summary: She was a girl with the memories of a woman from a far-off place. One filled with the horrors of what humanity was capable of, given the chance. No, she refused to give up everything again for the fallacy of men. This time she was going to live or take everything down with her in a blaze of glory. Strength was survival, and pain was the best discipline.She may not be Mikasa, but Haia Momochi would always be an Ackerman. And she was going to turn the world on its head piece-by-moving-piece.Starting with the Bloody Mist.
Relationships: Mikasa Ackerman & Momochi Zabuza, TBD - Relationship
Kudos: 16





	Deed Undone

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably a strange crossover, I know, but I recently read "Whirlpool Queen, Maelstrom King" by cheshire_carroll and it inspired me to create my own blending of fandoms. And Mikasa is the type of badass that would totally flip the world of Naruto on its head to just to keep her brother safe.

**ONE**

_“I don’t have time to worry if it’s right or wrong, you can’t hope for a horror story with a happy ending.”_ – Eren Yeager.

Her first memories of the world were a familiar one.

Filth, loss, squalor.

The aroma of the desperate and the starving, and corpses of the dead left ignored to rot in alleyways long after their souls had left the plane of the living.

She was no stranger to the life of dexterous fingers, broken blades, and hiding in the shadows. If you’d asked, she might tell you of how she’d grown up once already, in a far-off place as the daughter of death and the sister of the fallen. Of how she’d given up everything and came out on top as one of the greatest legends ever known.

(Not that there’d been anyone left alive to hear of it).

The world was a familiar one, and she refused to let it succumb to the pollution of humankind and the fallacy of war.

Not again.

Mikasa Ackerman’s first memories began with a rock in her hands and blood on her skin. It was warm as it ran down the rivets of her palm and made her grip slick. The stench of death hovered around the small, motionless body beneath the heels of her bare feet. She couldn’t see the face of the boy whose head she’d bludgeoned, just the way his long, brown hair stuck to his scalp with clumps of red.

It poured out across the cold, mist covered ground and dyed her exposed shins with splatters like paint. His clothes were tattered and worn and filled with holes that told the story of how he’d just been trying to survive. From the hunger that turned his stomach round and pulled at his fragile ribs until the flesh was taut around them. His skin was dirtied and pale; uncovered feet blistered over from the lack of protection.

A dull blade laid a few inches away from his outstretched hand half-broken, the edges brown with rust. Mikasa could remember watching her childhood best friend, Eren, getting smacked across the back of the head for failing to clean his sword once during their stint in the Training Corps.

 _A man is only as strong as their weapon_ , she recalled. Not that it had done much to save him in the end. Or anyone at all.

She’d seen enough violence wrecked by the Shinigami to feel much remorse towards the child that she’d just killed. Watching everyone you ever loved fall at the hands of war tended to desensitize even the most empathetic of minds. Armin, her sweet, kind-hearted brother – they may have not been bonded by blood but were chosen as family – had succumbed to apathy after the anger had passed, before his body was torn from his still steaming titan carcass and his soul left the planet.

So, while Mikasa felt pity at how the nameless kid had died just trying to survive, she couldn’t bring herself to regret her actions. Not when she looked up and caught the eye of another child across the small expanse of the alleyway. With hair as black as the moonless sky and so thick and spiky that it was a mystery how the dampened air hadn’t weighed it down, his obsidian hued irises gleamed in the dark.

He’d been sleeping with his honey colored bare back pressed up against the cobblestoned wall and his chin resting against his sternum. Mikasa had been left to keep watch until it was her turn to rest, and they switched. The process was a routine that kept them safe during the night when the rest of the starved, desperate citizens prowled in hopes of scavenging something, anything, to keep themselves alive.

It wasn’t until tonight that they’d encountered a trio of children no older than seven with baby fat that still stubbornly clung to their hallowed cheeks. She wished that they hadn’t tried to attack because it wasn’t like she had any more than they did. Her eyes had caught the shadows that moved against the wall near the mouth of the alleyway, and the sound of feet scuffling against the ground.

The new world Mikasa found herself in may have not been like her last, but some things were so similar that it wasn’t hard to let instinct take over. A quick jerk of her elbow had the sharp bone digging into the slumbering boy’s side and he’d awoken with a silent start and a heated glare.

(Too much noise in the dark could spell the difference between life and death).

The narrowed eyes of a five-year-old boy shouldn’t have been able to hold as much contempt as they had. Nor should there have been bruises beneath his lids that spoke of too little rest, or hard lines around his mouth screamed of too much hardship.

Mikasa had just nodded her head towards the shadows steadily creeping towards them and the boy had understood. While he wore no shirt – the only one they had between them draped across _her_ back – his oversized, dark blue pants had plenty of places to hide the small knife that he slid from its depths.

When the trio tried to ambush them, they were too surprised by the flash of a blade and the quickness of pair of hands that shot out to defend themselves. Mikasa may have been stuck in a child’s body, but her mind still remembered the feeling of flesh-on-flesh as her knuckles broke the tiny bones of a nose. And while her limbs were still sluggish to react and clumsy to reach, they knew how to kill.

 _Had_ killed, many times over. Human, titan, a hybrid of both, it didn’t matter. Death took everything in the end.

And when it was all said and done and the corpses of three nameless kids lay at their feet, Mikasa looked across the alleyway and let her bloodied rock drop with a muffled clatter. Her legs crossed the short distance, but before her outstretched hand could land on him, he caught her wrist in a loosened grasp.

“I’m fine, Haia,” he spoke, sharp teeth flashing from behind his lips. He used his free hand to pull the bandages looped around his neck up until they covered the bottom half of his face, most likely to drive out the horrid stench of copper and feces that wafted from the dead like fumes.

His eyes that were a mirror image of hers, only darker in color, flickered over her. Mikasa sometimes entertained the thought of whether or not her older brother would have left her to fend for herself if she hadn’t proved useful, but she knew otherwise. Zabuza Momochi didn’t care about a lot of things; not the cold or the lack of sun or the life they found themselves trapped in. But they were all they had in the world, she and him were bound by blood. She could trust that he wouldn’t let hers spill to the ground. Just like she wouldn’t allow his.

Her tongue swiped across her teeth – _luckily_ , she always thought, _I didn’t inherit his_ – and her tongue caught on her incisors, the only sharpened ones she had, as she sized up the damage done to their sleeping place.

“Where to now?”

At three years old, Mikasa should have been horrified by what she saw. But if they’d left their attackers alive, they’d only come back at them for revenge; a little more cautious and a lot more angry. 

“Somewhere that doesn’t stink.”

Zabuza used his grip on her wrist to drag her behind him into the streets. It was difficult to see through the mist that flowed between the run-down buildings and covered the sky like an everlasting dome. The Village Hidden in the Mist was a cruel one, torn apart by a war passed, and filled with decay and famine. Where only the strong thrived and the desperate fell at their mercy.

Mikasa often wondered if she was being punished. She’d finally been given the sweet release of death after she’d outlived everyone that came before her, just to be born into another life in a place no better than the last. With no Eren, no Armin, no Levi to help her push through the pain. Just an older brother to hold her up lest she fall.

It was a good thing that Mikasa Ackerman was no stranger to war. No, she’d be damned if she let it tear her apart a second time.


End file.
